Chapter Twenty Four
Rand
Contacting Seattle PD, he verified what he already knew, that Tuan Nguyen had not returned. A couple of uniforms went to Nguyen’s last known address as well as Pearson’s office and condo, and there was no sign of him anywhere. Connie fired up her computer and started trying to track the man online, going as far as hacking into a few databases to find information they’d previously obtained on the attorney, now needing it on Tuan Nguyen. The statement from Junior that Tuan was the muscle, the killer, and that Bruce Pearson was not, had caught them all off guard. Now they had to scramble to find the true murderer, and there was no time to go through proper channels as they’d done when trying to link everything to Pearson.
One side of the office was a flurry of movement, Landers and Gonzales frantically typing and murmuring to one another, jerking all the sheets with info on Pearson from the whiteboard, only able to add the notes Rory had jotted down on a sheet of paper to Junior’s picture. The other side of the office was calm and subdued, Cummings sitting with Junior, the two of them speaking softly. Rand decided to focus on Junior and hear the rest of his story, confident in the other two agents’ abilities to find the needle, Tuan, in the haystack otherwise known as the Internet.
“Hey, it’s okay, Mannie. You’re safe here.…I promise you.” Blair cajoled the skittish witness. Junior looked up when Rand walked over and offered him another bottle of water. The smile was forced, his eyes still cloudy and uncertain, posture stiff.
“Thanks, Davis. Why don’t you pull up a chair?” Blair met his eyes, the younger man’s stare imploring. As soon as he dragged a chair over and sat, Rand saw some of the fight-or-flight fear that had been ingrained in Junior melt away.
“Okay, Mannie. Tell us how you survived—how you wound up in Arizona.” It struck Rand then. He’d never heard the soft, soothing tone Cummings was using on Junior, the youngest of their group of ragtag cops and agents normally far more passive-aggressive. It was almost as if he felt he needed to assert his place, prove that he was capable of standing his own ground with the three more seasoned members.
“Yeah, uh, okay.” Junior covered Blair’s hand on his knee with his own. Seeming to pull strength from their connection, the terrified young man sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat. “After Tuan knifed me, I lost consciousness for a while. I can vividly remember thinking I was dying, praying to God to forgive me and let me into heaven.” He snorted. “Everything else is choppy…blurry when I strain to recall the events of that night. Like I told you before, Bruce choked me until I lost consciousness, and when I came to, Tuan was there. And…” He trailed off, eyes glassy. Junior slammed his fist down on his other leg, eyes closed tight, face a mask of pain and confusion.
Uncertain what Junior’s reaction would be if he tried to comfort him, Rand stayed still. He’d already shared with them that he’d lost time and memories as a result of what Nguyen had done to him, most likely from a severe brain injury, given the facts. Rand wondered if the traumatized young man could remember anything solid, anything they could use.
“Easy, Mannie. It’s okay.” Blair promised. “I’d like to try a memory technique with you—if that’s okay.”
“At this point, I’d try anything short of a lobotomy.” Junior snorted again, and Rand considered which one was more irritating, the snort or the throat-clearing thing.
Rand shook his head. At least the guy still had a sense of humor, even if it did border on morbid. “Sit back and close your eyes, take deep, even breaths, and clear your mind. Now, I want you to go to that night, rewind to the moment you were pushed into the car with Bruce.”
Junior nodded, a jerky, uncoordinated head bob. “He’s so mad. I can see it in his face. His eyes…his eyes are hollow. He’s screaming at me, cursing, calling me a filthy whore and,” Junior winced, hands lifting to his neck, fingers clawing at invisible hands, “he’s choking me. I can’t breathe.”
Blair reached over and gently clasped Junior’s wrists, lowering his hands, continuing to soothe with words of encouragement. “All right, Mannie. Can you remember anything from the time you were put in the car to when you woke up on the ground?”
“No…wait, yes. Bruce is talking to Tuan. He’s telling him to ‘Get rid of him,’ to get rid of me before he gets out of the car and slams the door. The car is moving again, and I can’t focus…can’t stay awake, can’t move.”
“Okay Mannie, I know you’re scared. Just a little longer. Can you tell me…what’s the next thing you can remember?” Rand made a mental note to keep Agent Cummings on speed dial for hostage negotiations. The guy stayed calm and focused, his voice smooth and even throughout, no matter what Junior told them. It was a gift—one that few possessed.
“It’s so cold and dark, and my head is throbbing. My eyes don’t want to open. I have to make a conscious effort and when I can see, all I see is him. His eyes are black, full of hate, and he’s talking, can’t…he’s saying it’s my fault, that he’s going to kill me just like he’s killed all the boys that came before, and he’ll kill all the boys that come after.” Junior blinked, slumping in his chair. “Can we stop, please?” God, he sounded so broken.
“Of course.” Blair soothed the young man, patting him on the knee. “Are you okay to tell us what the hell you did after? How you wound up in Arizona?”
He laughed—well, it was an odd marriage of a laugh, snort, and condemning grunt, but a laugh nonetheless. “The big, dumb oaf never took my cell away. Of course, in his defense, he thought I was dead. When I came to, I was numb all over, but I managed to make my body roll sideways and remove my cell from my back pocket. I called my best friend that I’ve known since grade school, and he pinged my location on my iPhone and came and got me. His uncle is a doctor, so Petey took me to his place, and I was there…fuck, I can’t even tell you how long. I lost so much time—weeks just gone in an instant. Uncle Doctor went to college with the person that owns the apartment I’ve been living in for the past decade. She too is a survivor. Her ex-husband was an abusive alcoholic, so she understands the need for discretion and secrecy.”
Good Lord, what a fucking life to lead. To wake up in the middle of nowhere in winter in Washington with a busted open skull and a slit throat, the goddamn knife still threaded through his flesh. The poor guy had been to hell and lived to talk about it. Worse for wear, that much was certain, but alive. Junior went on to catalog his other ailments in the wake of his failed relationship with Bruce Pearson, and Rand was floored. How in the hell the kid hadn’t died that day was a miracle. The icing on the cake was the souvenir Tuan Nguyen had left, a token of his lack of affection, the knife.
Junior stood, stretching, and Rand took a moment to really look him over. Even with the scars and his constantly rattled appearance, he was quite striking. Long and lean, bordering on too thin, with pale skin and eyes that reminded Rand of the ocean. Dark and cloudy during a storm, calm and captivating when a warm breeze blew in. Rand jumped when Rory shouted. “What? Why the hell would he be in Dallas?”
Rand stood and crossed the room. “Who’s in Dallas?”
Connie pinched her nose, sighing in frustration. “Tuan is listed on the flight manifest for a flight out of Seattle late last night. That flight landed in Dallas this morning.”
“That makes no sense. Why would he come here?” Rand was confused. Chaos ensued. Junior heard the words “Tuan” and “Dallas” and freaked out again. Blair was trying to calm him down, to stop the young man from running, explaining that he was in a building full of men and women with guns. He was also in a room in that building with four people that would protect him at any cost. Connie took out her anger on her keyboard, cursing in Spanish while pounding the keys into submission. And Rory rushed over to his desk to grab his cell, obviously dialing Shannon. “Fuck! He’s not picking up.” Rory dialed again, rearing back to throw the phone across the room when it went to voice mail a second time. Rand rushed over and grabbed the phone from him.
Whirling around, he shouted for everyone to shut the fuck up. “Now, can any one of you tell me what would bring Tuan Nguyen to Dallas? It’s not like he knows that Shannon and Junior are even alive, much less that they’re both in Texas. So, help me understand this.”
“No, there’s no way.” Blair leaned against his desk, arms crossed. “I mean, did any of you list Shannon on anything while you were there? There really wouldn’t have been any need.”
“Oh God, Rand. He was in the waiting area when I tried to call Shannon. You said Shannon is safe back in Texas. You said his name.” Rory grabbed his gun and shield from his desk drawer and moved quickly toward the door.
“Gonzales, let’s go. Cummings, you stay with Junior and keep him safe,” Rand ordered, sprinting down the hall after Rory with Connie right behind him.